


do me (a favour)

by meguri_aite



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meguri_aite/pseuds/meguri_aite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “I would be forever in your debt if you could date Daichi for a bit,” continued Sugawara in a conversational tone that was probably appropriate for a wide range of subjects, but, Kuroo thought dimly, not this particular one.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kuroo had thought he was pretty much used to all kinds of wake-up calls.

At first it came with being the team captain, which involved more odd-end caretaking than one might think a bunch of athletic high schoolers needed. He’d never thought he’d miss the days when his mornings started with a frantic text about Nekoma’s first-years getting stuck in a tree or some such, but then the university classes started and proved him tragically wrong. Before he knew it – and probably as a karmic punishment for some truly heinous crimes committed in his past lives – he ended up in the same class as one Oikawa Tooru. A former Miyagi prefecture darling now fast on his way to being Tokyo’s star setter, Oikawa was probably the world’s most high-maintenance friend. Who also survived on two hours of sleep a day, judging by the number of chirpy calls Kuroo got at oddest times.

So when at oh-god-no-o’clock in the morning Kuroo’s phone buzzed right into his face, trapped between his cheek and the sofa on which he had faceplanted at some point last night after finally closing the door behind Oikawa, Kuroo was not surprised.

Squinting at the phone just long enough to swipe at the screen and take the call, Kuroo closed his eyes and slumped facedown again.

“Hello,” he groaned in the general direction of the phone speakers.

“Hi! Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?”

A light voice with clear apologetic notes stubbornly refused to register as Oikawa’s no matter how much Kuroo frowned into his sofa.

“It’s Sugawara. Am I calling you at a bad time?”

The mental image of an open face and eyes crinkling with laughter shaped itself in Kuroo’s mind, and a vaguely guilty prickling pushed him to sit upright.

“No, it’s fine, I should be getting up anyway,” he said, rubbing his eyes with one hand to chase away the sleep. “Is there something you wanted?”

It wasn’t like they never talked - they saw each other often enough, what with hanging out together every so often after practice matches and all, but Sugawara had never called him before.

“Ah, yes, actually. I have a huge favour to ask.”

“Yeah?” Kuroo listened to some unidentifiable shuffling on the other end of the line and idly wondered if Sugawara was alone, which somehow intensified the guilty feeling.

“I would be forever in your debt if you could date Daichi for a bit,” continued Sugawara in a conversational tone that was probably appropriate for a wide range of subjects, but, Kuroo thought dimly, not this particular one.

He didn’t manage to think much of anything else, because after some more shuffling noises and what sounded like an exasperated sigh, it was Sawamura’s voice that came through.

“Let me explain. Hi, Kuroo.”

* * *

Daichi manfully resisted an urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You want me to do what, exactly?”

Suga finished stretching his legs and sat down on the bench, facing Daichi.

“Pretend to date Kuroo. Do you think you can do it?” he asked seriously. “It would really help me.”

Arguing with Suga was hard. Saying no to him was even harder. Having Suga as his closest friend and partner meant that Daichi rarely had to do either of that, which, in turn, was one of the reasons why he felt generally ill-equipped to have this conversation.

Another reason, of course, was the subject of the conversation.

“Can you please explain to me once again why it is vital for your love life?” he asked, carefully choosing his words.

Usually Suga knew what he was doing, Daichi reminded himself. No matter how bizarre it sounded this time around, he owed Suga at least to try and understand his idea.

“Currently non-existent love life,” Suga smiled. “And do you know why that is so?”

Daichi had no idea, so he shrugged. As far as he was concerned, Suga was pretty amazing and deserved to have anyone he wanted.

“It’s because people usually think we’re totally married,” Suga said.

“Married,” Daichi repeated flatly.

“An item,” Sugawara supplied cheerfully. “Joined at the hip. Boyfriends.”

Daichi gave in and pinched the bridge of his nose. It didn’t help.

“Look, I’m not saying I mind - “

“I know,” Suga laughed, clearly amused, and Daichi cracked a smile, too. “It just sounds too convoluted to you, right? But imagine someone easily impressionable and proud, someone sensitive who might never admit or bring up their feelings assuming I’m, well, already taken.”

“You are not talking hypothetical, right? There is someone you want to stage this show for.”

Suga raised his hands in a mock admission of defeat.

“You got me there. I’m talking about Oikawa,” he said with a small cough.

“Oikawa, sensitive?!”

“Well, yes. Of course, he is also prone to dramatic gestures and has somewhat… childish and roundabout ways of expressing his affection or concern -” Suga paused for a moment, as they both remembered their high school encounters, “- but he is very sensitive, and not a little bit proud. He just wouldn’t come up and break something he thinks is an item.”

Daichi’s objections died at the soft tone of Suga’s voice. No matter what he personally thought about Oikawa, which was always along the lines of praying he toned down the flashiness for one goddamn minute, in this moment, Suga sounded like he genuinely liked the guy. He was always good at seeing right into people’s hearts, and if he spoke so highly of Oikawa - well, Daichi could respect that.

“So, roundabout ways for a roundabout person, I got that part. If that’s what you need from me, I guess I can do it. But you know, dating - even fake dating - needs two people,” Daichi pointed out. “Why Kuroo?”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t say no,” Suga energetically waved him off . “He might publicly denounce his friendship with Oikawa every other day, but I’m sure Kuroo cares about him enough to join in on the plan.”

Daichi doubted that every friendship came with enough commitment to just go along with a plan as cliched as this, but decided to let it go.

“And it’s not like you don’t trust me to find an actual date myself, right?” Daichi raised one eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Suga solemnly held his hand to his heart. “With your absolutely wanton lifestyle that alternates between technical engineering classes, club activities and playing with kids on the weekends, I’m sure you would have produced ten excellent candidates on a short notice.”

“Of course,” Daichi said, agreeably.

“And while you could, of course, be holding auditions for these worthy candidates, Kuroo on our team would really speed things up. And you know, point the things in the right direction.” Suga looked at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’m not above recruiting any help I can get with this.”

Daichi knew Suga’s determined face when he saw it, so there was little else he could do to prevent his friend from calling Kuroo on the phone.

He sighed and braced himself for a cliche disaster to come. But a friend’s gotta do what a friend’s gotta do, and if Suga needed fake dating, it was Daichi’s job to make sure it was done properly.

* * *

8:15

god kenma im screwed haha so screwed

8:17

you know what they say about the holes people dig for themselves? yeah.

8:20

of course i said yes. who wouldn’t?

8:22

ignore the metaphors. good luck with the test today!

10:10

ok. thx.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Clearly, Sawamura had a plan, and Kuroo’s part in it was pretending to be in love with him while being all casual about it. Which was not that far from pretending to be casually friendly while being in love, but possibly with more benefits._   
> 

Kuroo thoughtfully scratched the tip of his nose, tugged at his hair, hummed tunelessly for a minute, but the reality remained unchanged.

There was still a message on his phone screen unequivocally stating that Sawamura would meet him in the park closest to Kuroo’s home to brainstorm dating plans.

Dating plans. With Sawamura. Sawamura waiting for him in the park.

 _Don’t let Oikawa know_ , the message blinked sternly. _Meet me first._

Poor Kenma, having to get the brunt of it.

In his defense, Kuroo wasn’t actually expecting to be woken up by the guy of his dreams proposing to do nefarious things in the name of friendship. And in aggravating circumstances, too: it should be illegal to impose life-changing information on him before noon. Mornings were of the devil.

But now that he was up and his brain had shaken off sleep, Kuroo was determined to put it to good use. Preferably before showing up at the meeting place and revealing himself to be exactly the pathetically pining person he was.

Not that he had a single idea on how to stop pining pathetically, but that was neither here nor there.

It was clearly only a temporary arrangement that just so happened to borrow a page or two from Kuroo’s book of daydreams, and even if he was a bit fuzzy on the details, Kuroo wasn’t about to object. Clearly, Sawamura had a plan, and Kuroo’s part in it was pretending to be in love with him while being all casual about  it. Which was not that far from pretending to be casually friendly while being in love, but possibly with more benefits.

Kuroo nearly tripped.

Well, he could do that. He just needed to remember the casual part very, very well. Good thing he’d had a lot of practice.

* * *

Daichi was idly thrumming his fingers against the sun-soaked wooden bench, his thoughts drifting between his current class project and the last practice game, when he felt a heavy arm drape around his shoulder.

“Do you have a band-aid?”

He immediately turned to the speaker, concerned, and tried to see if there were any visible signs of injury, but there was nothing more alarming than Kuroo's usual bed hair in sight.

Daichi raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question, and Kuroo bent his head closer to Daichi’s.

“Because I just scraped my knee falling you,” he said in a low voice, and then straightened up, obviously pleased with his delivery.

Daichi continued to stare at him in silence, willing his eye not to twitch. Kuroo continued to loom over him and maintain an idiotically serious face.

“I’m wounded that you are not impressed,” Kuroo said at last, closing his hand over his heart. “And here I was, doing my best to get in character for this.”

“If this was your best, I’m impressed you managed to get a date in the first place,” Daichi replied, but without much heat. Kuroo was often an irritating mix of clever and childish, but if he was willing to act along with Suga’s plan, it made no sense to antagonize him.

“Now you are plain underestimating me - or rather, the extensive collection of pick-up lines the human genius has generated to date.”

“You mean there are worse?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“Oh, interested now?” Kuroo grinned. “All in good time, Sawamura.”

Daichi rolled his eyes but smiled. He supposed it wasn’t bad that Kuroo was enthusiastic about taking part in this charade, even if his energy could be better directed.

“Please, I don’t think I can hear more than one of those at a time without dropping at your feet. Brain-dead.”

Kuroo gave another ridiculous little bow.

“Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with awesome,” he said, sending Daichi a supposedly smouldering look from under his bangs. “At least not from the start.”

“Speaking of the start, Suga gave me some notes here - “

Daichi fished a scrap of paper out of his pocket which was covered in Suga’s handwriting. Kuroo carefully took it out of his hands, squinted at it, turning this way and that, and then gave it back.

“I don’t think I speak this kind of Japanese,” he said, and sprawled on the bench next to him. Before Daichi could argue, Kuroo produced a neat A4 notebook from his bag and set it open it on his knees.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, clicking his pen expectantly.

Daichi blinked at this sudden display of business attitude, and decided to put away his slip of paper. He remembered all of the stuff on it, anyway. He’d also do well to remember that Kuroo was a former captain who was used to managing a team of high schoolers, if not his own hair.

“So, Suga thinks if Oikawa was to hear about it - see it with his own eyes, really - at our next practice, it would be the easiest and most effective way to…”

* * *

13:05

kenma that was awful

13:05

i mean great

13:06

i mean, he was great and i was kinda awful, but he was great about it, which makes him great

13:08

if u say so?

13:08

ok can’t talk now, am in the movies

13:09

he said we should have a test drive

13:09

don’t crash

* * *

Kuroo locked his phone, slid it into his back pocket and returned his full attention to Sawamura and his incredibly attractive jawline. Not that the rest of him wasn’t incredibly attractive, but the lights in the movie theater were already dimmed and they were playing some nonsense trailers, the only advantage of which was that they lit up Sawamura’s attractive face in a sharp, attractive outline.

Kuroo suspected his thought process might be getting a tad addled, and silently thanked Sawamura for choosing a movie for their first public appearance as a couple. Well, as public as it got without Oikawa. Maybe now his brain would stop pushing him to try and see how many embarrassing things he could get away with saying.

Sawamura chuckled at something on the screen, his teeth catching some of that reflected light in a stark contrast to the darkness of his skin and the rest of the room. A light feeling in Kuroo’s already semi-vacant brain indicated that the last few sensible thoughts were feeling fairly uncomfortable there. Uncomfortable, lonely and awfully threatened by the warmth radiating off Sawamura’s elbow that occupied exactly one half of the armrest between them. An urge to lean in and start talking seemed like a less reckless alternative to thinking about the rest of Sawamura, who for the next few hours would be sitting just a single flimsy armrest away from him.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat with a small cough, “after we break the news, am I supposed to evade Oikawa’s attempts to grill me by, ahem, being engrossed in our sudden but passionate affair?” Not that he had any objection to any of it. It just felt good to say it like this, to Sawamura’s serious face.

“I’m sure that with enough activities, we’ll keep him off our backs,” he answered with a full-bodied shrug that still didn’t have any effect on the equal division of the armrest space. Fascinating stuff, really.

A displeased hiss from an avid fan of something other than Sawamura’s jawline interrupted their conversation.

“Excuse us, ma’am,” Sawamura sent a lady two seats away from them an unfairly sweet apologetic smile and turned back to him. “She’s right, you know.”

“Mm?”

“We shouldn’t be talking strategy in the movies,” he said seriously. “That’s not what we’re here for.”

Before Kuroo could muster up some inane comment about respecting the fine culture of cinema, Sawamura confidently took Kuroo’s hand into his own firm, warm hand, shifted in the chair so that their shoulders leaned against each other, and gave him another of his unfair winning smiles.

“We should be enjoying our time together, of course.”

Kuroo’s brain waved a cheerful goodbye to whatever thoughts lingered there and replaced them all with an image of blue screen lights caught in Sawamura’s crinkling eyes.

* * *

16:54

so hows the movie?

16:59

what movie?

17:01

nvrmnd **  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo was finding it extremely hard not to stare at Sawamura like a love-struck idiot, especially not when his job, for a change, was to _be_ a love-struck idiot.

21:05

kenma, he said he wants to pick me up tomorrow

21:05

before going to practice game together, that is

21:06

what do i do?

22:10

be on time

* * *

Daichi cracked his neck and silently cursed that he had forgotten his wristwatch. This mission, ridiculous as it was, still registered as one in his head, kicking him into on-the-job mode. He felt composed and concentrated, slipping into old captain habits of needing to keep an eye on everything.

Well, at least there was some use to be had from the fact that this mission required asserting skinship, Daichi thought as he reached out for Kuroo’s wrist.

“We’re on time, after all,” he said, looking at the funky digital clockface set into what must have been a fashionable plastic strap, and then lowered his hand. Kuroo blinked at him owlishly - he really wasn’t an early riser, Daichi thought with the insincere sympathy of a natural lark - but didn’t pull his hand out of Daichi’s grasp. He nodded approvingly - if both of them remembered to stick to the scenario diligently, this whole thing just might work out. And Suga would get together with his guy of choice, no matter how dubious that last one seemed to Daichi.

Speaking of the devil. They were just nearing the gym grounds, but Oikawa was already there, absent-mindedly spinning the volleyball between his hands. He must have spotted them at about the same time they did, because he sent the ball flying from one hand to another in an unnecessary flashy movement, and waved at them.

“Oi, Kuroneko-chan, where have you dropped off to? I haven’t been able to reach you on the phone- “ Oikawa’s cheery greetings stopped mid-sentence as he locked on their joined hands.

It was a very important moment, Daichi knew. They had to be natural and smooth to give a very convincing impression, and the first shot they had was going to be -

“I didn’t actually drop,” spoke up Kuroo, sleepiness slurring his speech with a rasp. “I _fell_ \- in love.”

Daichi’s groan sounded almost in unison with Oikawa’s, and they looked at each other in unexpected understanding.

“He’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t he?” Daichi asked, bumping his shoulder against Kuroo’s lightly. “How do you put up with him?”

“Hey, I take offense at that!” Kuroo protested and poked Daichi somewhere beneath his ribs, and then made a show of shaking his supposedly bruised finger. “Oikawa is not qualified to answer this question! In fact, he should be banned from passing opinions on anyone’s capacity to embarrass.”

“Look who’s getting along well!”

Everyone’s heads turned to look at Suga, who had approached them unnoticed and now stood grinning behind their backs.

“When did you show up? I didn’t see you,” Daichi greeted him, relieved.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind, I see you have been occupied,” Suga slapped him lightly on the shoulder and winked conspiratorially at Oikawa. “I guess we should be thankful they showed up at practice in the first place, am I right?”

“Now who’s being an embarrassing friend,” grumbled Kuroo under his breath.

Oikawa laughed, but still didn’t say a word. Daichi wondered if he was so uncharacteristically quiet because he wasn’t buying the act, but Oikawa’s mind was as much an incomprehensible mystery as ever to Daichi. He didn’t even try too hard to puzzle out Oikawa’s expression, choosing instead to rely on Suga to know how to read all these nuanced people things. Suga was good at quietly arranging everyone into - well, something that worked. And Daichi was good at lending his strength where it was most needed, which was what he’d do.

Well, that was not to say that Kuroo was completely hopeless, either. He seemed to have a knack for defusing a tense atmosphere, even at the expense of the lamest jokes of the century, and was generally pretty fast on the uptake. Daichi looked at him for a moment, taking in the general air of ruffled besottedness that Kuroo diligently emanated, then shrugged off his doubts and started walking toward the gym. Kuroo followed, his hand still in Daichi’s.

* * *

Kuroo was finding it extremely hard not to stare at Sawamura like a love-struck idiot, especially not when his job, for a change, was to _be_ a love-struck idiot. The world had arranged itself into this weird dream-like idyll, turning his brain into a ball of cotton candy, where an occasional reality check sunk in soundlessly without making any real impact.

It probably also didn’t help that he had barely gotten any sleep last night. Following Kenma’s advice had turned out to be as unachievable as hopes of ever attaining Kenma’s zen on the subject, which became painfully clear to Kuroo after he had spent the better half of the night mooning and sweating about seeing Sawamura at his doorstep again. It was no surprise whatsoever that morning had caught him by surprise, and he had practically tumbled downstairs like the world’s most disheveled late date cliche.

Obviously, looking at Sawamura’s early morning face - which was as good as his midday or evening face, it should be noted, but also had the charm of a novel sight and a fresh shave - had helped clear Kuroo’s head none. Instead of trying to recall anything from their previously agreed on plans, Kuroo had ad libbed his way through break-the-news stage, because whatever he had jotted down in his notebook had seemed infinitely less interesting than the warm grip of Sawamura’s fingers around his wrist.

And judging by the fact that Sawamura hadn’t punched him even once yet, he could probably get away with it a while a longer.

Warm-up exercises and a few laps around the court should have cleared his head enough to put it back into working shape, and maybe prompt thinking about the impression they made, but Sawamura was making that goddamn hard by running and stretching with a look of complete concentration and, might Kuroo add, almost within touching distance. Kuroo said his silent thanks to whoever had the brilliant idea that Sawamura should be in his proximity, doing riveting things like breathing.

Not whoever, though, Kuroo thought, for a moment succeeding in tearing his eyes from the back of Sawamura’s neck. Sugawara Koushi.

Sugawara Koushi, who was now sending angelic smiles and deceptively wide-eyed looks in Oikawa’s direction. Even being as emotionally compromised as he was, Kuroo could honestly admit that anyone between ages three and hundred and three would be tempted to smile back and approach Sugawara. Or, if you were Oikawa, might possibly want to engage in an aggressive sparkle-off, trying to outdo him on this playing field - one could never know just what would send him into a petulant baby mode.

Oikawa, however, seemed to have fallen into one of his meditative trances, when he was all eyes and ears and whirring brain gears, and Kuroo would have gotten chills about having his game all figured out in three seconds flat - except his pining was completely and utterly genuine, and Oikawa already knew it better than anyone else, on the account of one too many late-night get-togethers and an unbearably nosy character.

So naturally, his attention was turned towards Sawamura as the unknown factor.

They switched from stretching exercises to a setting drill, and Oikawa strategically placed himself next to Sawamura.

“So, how did you two get together?” he asked casually, sending a ball in a soft arc to his partner. The calculating glint in Oikawa’s eyes might have scared off lesser men, but a lesser man Sawamura wasn’t.

“I asked him out,” he answered evenly, sending the volleyball back at Oikawa. Kuroo’s insides tickled with something embarrassingly like fluttering of angelic wings. Yes, this very image of attractive manliness and composure had asked him out, no lie detected.

“And?” The ball flew out of Oikawa’s hands almost as soon as it touched his fingers, seemingly as impatient to reach Sawamura as the question.

“He said yes.”

Oikawa caught the ball between his palms and paused for a second.

Kuroo could sympathize. To someone who often thought in circles and layers that kind of direct, point A to point B approach could be slightly disorienting and enviable in its simplicity - or in Kuroo’s case, disarmingly irresistible, but his bias was an established one and also possibly irrelevant to this train of thought, which he was losing anyway. Kuroo half-heartedly tried and spectacularly failed not to give a long, appreciative look to Sawamura’s well-defined arms.

A volleyball came flying from the opposite end of the court and almost hit the one Oikawa was holding out of his hands. Sugawara came running and apologizing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my hand slipped - are you alright?” he took one of Oikawa’s hands for a closer inspection. “Thank goodness, nothing seems to be harmed,” he continued with a relieved laughter, and let go of Oikawa’s hand with a light brush of his fingers.

Sawamura took this moment to start stretching again, so Kuroo, his eyes now pretty much glued to the rhythmic movement of Sawamura’s shoulder blades under his t-shirt, almost missed the moment when Oikawa’s startled expression changed into something more peculiar. Something not unlike _pleased_.

Well, it seemed like they were all getting their wishes sooner than they’d expected.

* * *

22:00

i think that went well

22:01

you don’t mean the game do you

22:01

you should have seen him, really

22:05

i have

22:05

go to bed


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“And it’s not like hitting on you is a terrible chore, you know.”_

Daichi finished his drink before it turned entirely into Coke-flavoured ice water, gave one last look to his half-finished plate of french fries and pushed it towards Kuroo. The guy was awfully fond of french fries, because he kept sneaking them off Daichi’s plate. Not that Daichi minded sharing, really.

In fact, there was very little that he minded, Daichi admitted to himself as he leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs under the table. It was a surprisingly easy and comfortable pastime, listening to Kuroo and Oikawa bicker half-heartedly, watching Suga laugh at something Oikawa said and effortlessly insinuate himself into Oikawa’s space.

The four of them hanging around together after games and classes had become a habit over the last couple of weeks, and since Kuroo had proven himself a reliable accomplice, falling into fake dating routine was easy and comfortable regardless of what they had to do. So far they had been to a paintball game (playing against Suga still didn’t seem fair, especially when he teamed up with Oikawa, who was absolutely _ruthless_ and uncompromising about pinpoint accuracy of his shots; if Daichi hadn’t had Kuroo covering his back and giving him pointers over their comm line, the score gap would have been so much more embarrassing), got dragged to play beach volleyball (Kuroo and Daichi had their revenge, but Daichi suspected they owed it primarily to the fact that Suga was too successful in drawing Oikawa’s attention to himself; it was all terribly amusing until Oikawa’s competitiveness kicked back in, and suddenly they were diving to see who could stay underwater the longest, and Daichi’s head swam a little afterwards, as he lay stretched next to Kuroo, who radiated boneless content just like his moniker animal), and visited more cafes than he could count. It ate up all the free time Daichi had on his hands, but it was also the most fun he had after starting college.

This time around their playdate was a quiet one. First they were too tired and hungry after their Sunday practice match, and now they were too full to do anything but sprawl in their chairs, chatting companionably.  Or rather, Daichi let the others do the talking, content to support Kuroo’s weight propped against his shoulder and to observe Oikawa get almost crossed-eyed every time Suga went and did some Suga thing.

As if on cue, Suga reached out and lightly brushed a finger across Oikawa’s cheek, interrupting him mid-sentence.

“You had some jam on your cheek,” Suga informed him. Oikawa blinked and resumed his story - something about his college teammates and their latest antics - and the hitch in his voice was barely noticeable. The boy was learning, Daichi thought with amusement, but still stood no chance: the playful smile hiding at the corner of Suga’s mouth cheerfully spelled Oikawa’s demise.

A small huff on his left indicated that Kuroo didn’t miss the exchange either. Daichi tilted his head up to Kuroo’s ear, fully aware of the impression it was likely to produce, and whispered, “Some supportive friend you are, I see.”

Kuroo didn’t disappoint: he leaned closer and wrapped his arm around Daichi’s shoulders. “I don’t see him complaining, I’m sure he finds his circumstances very _refreshing_ ,” he said, grinning practically into Daichi’s neck.

Daichi laughed. Oikawa, who possibly had a sixth sense for detecting when people were paying him any attention, gave them a look that would have been more threatening if the tips of his ears weren’t turning pink.

“Well, isn’t someone growing tired of group activities,” Suga said.

“Someone has more of those planned for today, and this one is definitely not the most exhausting,” Daichi shrugged good-naturedly.

“Study group for the project?”

“Yeah, the due date is next week. And I should really be going, I think.” Daichi glanced at his wristwatch and nudged Kuroo in the ribs. “See me off to the station?”

With a nod, Kuroo peeled his boyfriendly form off Daichi’s shoulders and stood up. Daichi cracked his neck - Kuroo’s body was warm and familiar by now, but not exactly _weightless_ \- and bent down to pick up his bag.

“Next week’s going to be rainy, too,” Oikawa said suddenly.

“Are you saying no more dates until it’s over, then?” Suga raised his eyebrows, as if disbelieving.

“No more _outdoor_ dates,” Oikawa corrected. “Say, once Sawamura’s done with his project, or wants to have a break or whatever, wanna have a movie night at my place?”

“Don’t tell me,” Kuroo said, staring at him flatly. “Marathoning _Alien_?” Unspoken _again_ in his voice was as subtle as a neon sign.

“It doesn’t have to be _Alien_ ,” Oikawa said defensively.

“Picking between two alien movies is not a choice,” grumbled Kuroo at the same time as Suga said, “ _Alien_ ’s alright.”

Oikawa stared at Suga with what had to be his most wide-eyed expression so far. Kuroo looked deeply betrayed, and Daichi gave up trying to hold back laughter.

“Everyone brings a movie of their choice, we’ll flip a coin or something,” he said. “Thanks for the invitation! But I’m really leaving now, duty calls, you know the drill.”

* * *

17:13

i guess it’s good that i don’t have any group projects at the moment

17:20

except this one you mean

* * *

Kuroo liked walking half a step behind Sawamura: it was a strategic position, chosen for an easy reach and a good view.  Right now it let him peacefully admire the warm glow of the afternoon sun against Sawamura’s skin and contemplate weakness of the human heart and his own knees.

“Shit,” Sawamura groaned, stopping in his tracks. “I forgot my phone.”

“Did you leave it at the table?” Kuroo shoved his less useful thoughts further into his mind and searched his brain for any recent memory of Sawamura’s tattered old-model phone, but came up empty. Not surprising, given that he barely remembered what he had to eat or drink. Besides spoonfuls of eye candy, that is. “Do you want me to dial you? Or if you think it’s lost somewhere on the way, we can look for it together. I’m in no rush to get home.”

He hoped it didn’t telegraph ‘don’t leave just yet’ as pathetically loud and clear as he suspected it did, but without much conviction. These last days were absolutely abysmal for his self-control and dignity. The part of Kuroo’s brain responsible for self-preservation, currently silenced under the martial law of fake dating regime, feebly wondered just how he was planning to go back once this arrangement was over.

“Thanks, but it won’t help - my phone’s always on silent,” Sawamura smiled at him, showing laughter lines clearly designed to pierce Kuroo’s weak, weak heart. “I’m also sure I just left it at the table. Go ahead without me, I’ll just run back to the cafe and then make a beeline to my study group.”

“Group projects are serious business,” Kuroo patted Sawamura’s shoulder in a gesture of genuine sympathy. Mostly sympathy, anyway. Thirty percent sympathy.

“You bet. And also, wouldn’t want to distract the lovebirds for long,” Sawamura reached up to whisper conspiratorially, bringing his face dangerously close.

“Call me,” Kuroo blurted out. “I mean, if you need to. Look for the phone.”

Sawamura grinned and pulled at a strand of Kuroo’s hair, effectively halting his higher brain functions for the rest of the day. “I’ll manage.”

* * *

“...it was a half-assed one, sure, but I’m so relieved it’s working out. Thank you so much for agreeing to help.”

There weren’t that many people in the cafe, so Suga’s voice reached him before Daichi came close to the booth they had all occupied, or saw him. He automatically slowed down, momentarily confused as he was trying to place the words into context.

“But that’s still a pretty big gamble, Suga-chan,” came Oikawa’s voice, and there was something flinty it, something of old Oikawa and the grand king’s gauntlet thrown across the court, and it stopped Daichi from coming any closer.

Instead, he sat down in a chair a booth away. A tight burn started in the pit of his stomach, something that wasn’t just guilt about eavesdropping.

“You can see why I took it, though.” Suga’s voice was smooth, like a polished stone.

Pause.

“I do.” Softer, now.

“Still, I think I should apologize. I should have let you in on it from the start.”

Another pause, but much shorter.

“I didn’t need you to tell me everything to know what was going on.”

“I don’t doubt you,” and there was definitely a smile in Suga’s voice, an apology that no one was cold-hearted enough to ignore, “but I still disagree. You needed to hear it from me from the start.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?” Daichi was still no good at reading all of Oikawa’s expressions and mannerisms, but even he could tell the question sounded too airy for something Oikawa didn’t want answered.

“Ahm, well, you know,” the smile in Suga’s voice changed, and was now closer to something that would require an apology, “I wanted to see if I could get your attention.”

“Did you, now.”

“And it’s not like hitting on you is a terrible chore, you know.”

A breezy laugh.

“I sure hope not.”

“And you are a very good kisser.”

“Now, what you should really be apologizing for is that tone of surprise.”

A soft chuckle.

“I’m sorry.”

“You are really not cute at all, Suga-chan.”

“I lied. I’m not sorry at all, Oikawa.”

* * *

17:50

Kuroo, we need to talk.

**Author's Note:**

> this story started out as a joke around my fervent denial of kurodais, and i regret everything. however, there will be updates, as i want to try writing this story over several chapters - there is just so many guilty cliches that my heart can take at a time orz
> 
> many thanks to throwingscissorsatinternets, rinkafushi and made-of-coffee for the help with this. you are awful and i wouldn't have it any other way <3


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